Bacon Cheeseburgers and Clown Porn
by bursts-of-vibration
Summary: With friends like these, right? One-shot.


Quinn knew she was early, they'd made plans for one and it was only twelve-thirty but right now, watching a clueless Santana doing, _whatever_ it was she was doing was worth the bitching out Quinn had no doubt she'd get at using her key and letting herself in rather than knocking and waiting at the front door.

Whatever, it was cold and she forgot her coat at home.

Wanting to prolong the sight for as long as she could, Quinn walked slowly towards the iPod dock sitting on top of the dresser, laughing silently as she committed the scene before her to memory before hitting the pause button and abruptly shutting off the flow of Jessie J's melodic voice blasting from the speakers.

Santana's voice stops a beat later.

Arms folded across her chest, a smirking Quinn lent back against the dresser. "Wha'cha doing?"

"Nothing! I was just, uh," Santana looks around her room, spotting one of her old, well worn t-shirts poking out from under her bed. "Dusting." she says, bending down to picking up the t-shirt and using it to dust down her bedside table.

Quinn raises her eyebrow, "Like a dude?"

"Shut it, Quinnteruption," Santana hisses. "You do _not,_ get to judge me."

"Sure I do. Especially when you're dressed like," Quinn waves her hand at Santana's clothes, "_That_."

Santana looks down at the oversized 'Bros before Hos' t-shirt and boyfriend jeans covering her body, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Absolutely nothing," Quinn scoffs, "If you were a guy."

"Didn't peg you as such a gender conformist, Q. I'm disappointed."

"And here I thought you couldn't _be_ any more of a lesbian."

Santana walks into the bathroom and throws her dusting t-shirt into the hamper, "You weren't complaining about my lesbianism when you were screaming my name while I was licking you p-"

"**Santana!**"

Santana points a finger at Quinn, "Just like that," she laughs.

"You're such a pig."

Santana shrugs, "I read somewhere that pigs have like, 15 minute orgasms, which-if memory serves me right-technically means you're the pig."

Quinn glares at Santana. "I hate you." she huffs.

"Seriously Q, I thought you were having a seizure." Santana's shoulders bounce up and down as she laughs, remembering that night and the way the other girl was flopping around like a fish out of water.

Quinn tilts her head towards the ceiling and pinches the bridge of her nose, "Oh my god." she whispers to herself.

"That's what you said." Santana chortles.

"I'm leaving." Quinn flips Santana off before turning around and making her way out of the bedroom.

Santana follows Quinn through her apartment, "Over and over and over again." she teases.

"Goodbye, Santana."

"Wait!"

Quinn stops with a hand on the handle of the front door, "What?"

"This is going to be really cheesy, but,"

"_But_, what?" Quinn coaxes.

"Do you wanna go get a pizza?"

Quinn spins around to face Santana, "Are you serious? _That's_ what you wanted to say?" she intones incredulously.

Santana offers Quinn a shrug, "I said it'd be cheesy."

"Why are we friends, again?" Quinn sighs.

Santana smirks and cocks her hip, "Because I give you multiple orgasms."

"_Gave_." Quinn grits out, "You _gave_ me multi- You know what, forget it. Just go and change because I am not being seen out in public with you dressed like a street thug."

Feigning hurt, Santana clutches her hand to her chest, "I do not"

"You look like an idiot. A poorly cross dressed, idiot."

"Pssh, I look gangsta." Santana grabs the crotch of her jeans and sways back and forth.

Quinn gives her a sympathetic smile. "Sure you do, sweetie." she says, her tone dripping with condescension.

"Whatever. Chicks dig this look."

"No they don't."

"Please, the bitches are lining up to rip my clothes off."

"Because they're ugly clothes."

"Suck my dick." huffs Santana.

Quinn points to Santana's crotch, "I wouldn't be surprised if you had one strapped on under those hideous pants."

"Ha, ha, 16 and pregnant. Ha, fucking ha."

"Hurry up and change, silicone Santana. I'm hungry." Quinn fires back.

Santana takes a step towards Quinn, "What'd you just call me?"

Not intimidated by Santana's advance, Quinn stands her ground. "What? I thought that could be your new '_hood_' name." she mocks, "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I'm telling Rachel what you really do when you go for a '_run_'" Santana threatens.

A mixture of anger and fear flashes over Quinn's face, "You're bluffing."

Santana grins smugly. "I still have no idea how she doesn't smell it on you when you get home. I mean, with a nose like that, how can she not?"

Realising that Santana isn't bluffing, Quinn racks her brain for something to lord over the other girl. "If you tell Rachel about the double bacon cheeseburgers, I'll tell Brittany about your porn collection!" she throws back.

"Ha! Jokes on you. Brittany already knows about that."

Quinn steps closer to the other girl, "Oh, so she knows about the stash you have hidden behind that creepy clown doll you have stuffed in the back of your closet you know she's too scared to go near?" she challenges.

"….Yes."

"So you won't mind me calling her then? Just to make sure." Quinn pulls out her phone and makes a show of scrolling through her contact list.

"**NO DON'T!**" Santana lunges for Quinn's phone, huffing as the blonde spins out of her reach, "Okay, fine. I won't tell your girlfriend about the helpless little piggies you shovel into your mouth every chance you get and you don't tell Brittany about my collection."

"Of porn." Quinn emphasises, "Your collection of _porn_."

Santana waves her hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah. Truce?" she asks.

"Truce." Quinn agrees.

"Great. Now let's go because I wants my pizza and I wants it now."

"Actually, I'm kinda craving Chinese."

"_Bacon cheeseburgers_." Santana threatens.

"_Clown hidden porn_." Quinn threatens back.

"…"

"…"

"Mexican?"

"Mexican."


End file.
